


Call Me by Your Name 2: This Time, It's Personal

by Masterless



Category: Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, I wrote this for my friend, I wrote this in like ten minutes in notepad on my phone, I'm so sorry about Marzia, M/M, Oliver murders people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 22:49:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14091414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterless/pseuds/Masterless
Summary: It was a dark and humid night in New York City, and Oliver found himself thinking, once again, of the boy he’d left behind somewhere on Northern Italy. The boy, Elio, had been on his mind since Oliver got back to the city, almost a year ago. It was almost the anniversary of his first night in Italy, the first time he had seen Elio in all his skinny, teenage glory. Oliver couldn’t stop thinking about his laugh, the way it started quietly in my chest, then slowly tumbled up into his throat and out passed his lips almost like it was being punched out of him. The look in his eyes when he caught Oliver staring, a half smirk, but his cheeks flushed, too, slightly embarrassed by the adoration in Oliver’s eyes. The soft curve of his inner thigh as it led up to his hip, the way his legs trembled when Oliver touched him there. There was so much to remember, and Oliver could feel himself going insane thinking about a boy he would never see again.





	Call Me by Your Name 2: This Time, It's Personal

It was a dark and humid night in New York City, and Oliver found himself thinking, once again, of the boy he’d left behind somewhere on Northern Italy. The boy, Elio, had been on his mind since Oliver got back to the city, almost a year ago. It was almost the anniversary of his first night in Italy, the first time he had seen Elio in all his skinny, teenage glory. Oliver couldn’t stop thinking about his laugh, the way it started quietly in my chest, then slowly tumbled up into his throat and out passed his lips almost like it was being punched out of him. The look in his eyes when he caught Oliver staring, a half smirk, but his cheeks flushed, too, slightly embarrassed by the adoration in Oliver’s eyes. The soft curve of his inner thigh as it led up to his hip, the way his legs trembled when Oliver touched him there. There was so much to remember, and Oliver could feel himself going insane thinking about a boy he would never see again.

One day, though, a week before the one year anniversary of his trip, he got an email from Prof. Perlman, asking him how he was, and if he would possibly want to visit for a few days over the summer. Oliver took it as a sign that he should reach out and grab what he had once so unwillingly given up, and he made plans to go that week, to visit Elio and tell him that he was still in love. Tell Elio that he never stopped thinking about their times together.  But there was one snag.

His wife.

Oliver tapped his fingers impatiently on the dining room table as she blabbed in and on about her students at the local elementary school, sighing through his nose just loud enough to get her attention.

“What is it now?” she asked.

“I got an invitation to go spend a few days with the Perlman’s this summer,” he told her, not really looking at her, but looking at a curl of blonde hair on the side of her head.  
“Well that sounds like fun,” she replied. “When do we go?”

Oliver shook his head. “The invitation was just for me.” It was a lie, Prof. Perlman had said he could bring her if he wanted, but bringing the wife with you when you were going to confess your undying love? Not a good move. “They only have space for one more guest.”

She snorted. “Yeah, like I’m going to let you go to Italy on your own again. The last time you went you came back so live struck for some Italian hussy that you didn’t look at me for a month.”

Italian hussy?

“What do you mean?” Oliver asked.

“You had your fun in Italy, sleeping with some wine soaked bohemian girl, and now you’re at home, with me.” She shook her head. “I’m not letting you go back just so you can sleep with some Italian whore again.”

Italian whore?

Oliver could feel his temper rising. Not only was she pushing her own heterosexual bullshit down his throat, she was calling Elio a hussy and a whore. She was saying that the love of his life was no better than a common prostitute! Oliver couldn’t stand it that she was judging someone she didn’t know, forcing him into sexuality that wasn’t his own, and that she was insulting Elio! He felt himself getting angrier and angrier, and before he knew it? He was up and into his study without thinking, grabbing the small handgun his father had given him when he moved out on his own, and putting a bullet through her throat.

Oliver stood and watched as she gurgled out her last breaths, eyes wide as she stared at him with disbelief, but he was already moving. He pulled a suitcase from his closet and filled it with clothes, stuffing it with essentials and a few books he had bought to send to Elio. He knew Elio would like them.

He almost ran to the airport, where he purchased a last minute ticket to Italy and sat to wait for his plane. He strained his ears to hear anything about his wife’s body being found, but he heard nothing, and continued to hear nothing all the way to Italy.

When Oliver got off the plane, it was dark and slightly chilly, but he loved it. The air had that earthy, deep smell to it again, and nothing around him smelled like greasy food. He hailed a taxi and told him the Perlman’s address, bouncing his leg nervously as the cat took off. He hadn’t told the Perlman’s he was coming, he just took off. Maybe that was better, maybe that was for the best. If they knew he as coming, Elio might have time to run away. Might have time to flee and never see him again.

When he got to the Perlman’s house, the first thing he saw was Elio hugging Marzia goodbye, and she placed a kiss on his cheek. Anger flooded Oliver’s mind again, and he followed her as she left.

“Marzia!” he called.

She turned, a confused smile spreading across her face. “Oliver?” She laughed a little. “Where did you come from?”

“I saw you hugging Elio just now,” Oliver said, pulling out his gun. “You do know he’s mine, right?”

“Ol-Oliver, it’s not what you think,” she began.

“I won’t hesitate, bitch.” Oliver pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through her heart. She was on the ground in no time.

Oliver turned and walked back to the Perlman’s house, tucking his gun into the back of his shorts. He picked up his suitcase from where he’d dropped it, and continued on. Oliver knocked on the door with a heavy fist, and was pleased to see it was Mafalda who opened it.

“Oliver!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I just came to visit,” he said, smiling at her.

But at that moment, Mafalda noticed he had blood on his shoes, from when Marzia hit the ground. She started to close the door, but Oliver was too quick. He pulled out his gun and sent her down with one expert blow to the temple. He didn’t really want to kill Mafalda, so he decided to just knock her out. He stepped over her body and went further into the house, up the stairs, and over to the door to what had been his bedroom the summer before.

Oliver pushed the door open and leaked inside, finding an empty bed ad an empty room. He walked in, but before he could look around, something heavy came down on the back of his head, and he stumbled forward, stunned.

“Oliver?” came a shocked voice behind him.

Turning, gun in hand, Oliver came face to face with Elio once more.

“Elio,” he whispered, and felt the younger man hurl himself into his arms, wrapping those long, thin arms around his shoulders.

“I missed you so much,” Elio muttered into his shirt.

“I missed you, too.” He nudged Elio slightly. “Hey, look at me.”

Elio looked up.

Oliver looked into his eyes. “Oliver,” he whispered.

Elio’s pupils dilated slightly. “Elio,” he replied in kind. “Elio Elio Elio.”

Oliver pulled him close. “I love you so much.”

Elio planted a kiss on Oliver’s cheek. “I love you so much, Elio...”

And then they fucked, the end.


End file.
